


November 22, 2017

by gothgingeralebottle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Ghost Hunters(mentioned), Ghosts, Plane Crash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothgingeralebottle/pseuds/gothgingeralebottle
Summary: The date is November 22, 2017...





	November 22, 2017

**Author's Note:**

> My first work I've posted ever, so... have Mercy? Maybe? I *am* my own beta-reader, so there might be errors. If you noticed any, please point them out. comments, feedback, and criticism are appreciated. Well, let's get on with this...

The date is November 22, 2017. It’s a Wednesday. We’re on a plane, going to see family in California. I grew up there… didn’t I? Yeah, I did. Grandma’s sick. Again. They don’t think she’s going to get better this time, so we have to go visit her before it’s too late. It’s a shame. I really loved Grandma. Oh well. Better to be put out of her misery and move on to paradise than to keep on suffering, right? And I know she’s going to paradise, because she was a nice old lady and made cookies and donated old clothes and toys and food. Oh, the plane is taking off. Cool. I feel the little rush of adrenaline and… the stomach drop that comes when the plane shakes.  
The date is November 22, 2017. The plane was in the air. It was cold, and I was looking out the window. I was looking at the clouds… I think I had just seen one that looked like a dragon… or maybe it was a face. A hand? That’s not important now. The flight attendants were going around taking drink orders… and then they weren’t, and the plane wasn’t flying, and it wasn’t cold anymore. It was warm, and then it was hot, and then it was scorching. Were we on fire? I think so. I remember people were screaming, and Momma was saying something to me, something about how much she loved me, and she was holding my little brother in her arms, as if she could protect him from the fire.  
The date is November 22, 2017. The plane is on the ground. It’s ruined. The people are ruined, too. I think there are sirens? I don’t remember. Everything is still on fire. Maybe that’s why there’s sirens; maybe someone called the fire department to come and put us out. Everything is really messy. There’s a hand next to me. No person, just a hand. I feel bad for them. I don’t know where Momma is. Nobody is screaming anymore. I’m not sure if anyone is alive anymore. Am I alive? I don’t know. The sirens are getting louder. I wonder what’s going to happen.  
The date is November 22, 2017. The people came. The firemen put out the fire. The men in the big white trucks pulled out the people. Or, what was left of the people. They were all burned and missing parts of themselves. I think I saw a man without his head. They’re putting us in white bags and then stacking us up. When the white trucks get full, the people get back into them and leave. Where are they going? Are they taking us all to the same place? What are they going to do with us when we… right. We’re all dead. They’re taking us to the morgue. Or wherever they take the bodies of people, just until they find out who we are. Dad wasn’t going on the trip, his job wouldn’t let him… will he recognize us?  
The date is November 22, 2017. He recognized Momma and my little brother. Not me. Did he even see me? I’m not sure. I think the only reason he recognized my little brother was because Momma was holding him. My little… brother… what was his name? I don’t remember. I don’t remember a lot about who I was. I don’t even remember who I was. Lots of people come through here… but where is here? I think it’s the place they keep our bodies. Us. The people who didn’t get identified. Why were there so many of us?  
The date is November 22, 2017. They come through here in the night with cameras and recorders. They ask us questions, but it’s hard to answer. There were three men once, they left a flashlight on a table and asked us yes and no questions. If we said yes, they wanted us to turn the flashlight on. Sometimes they want us to say things into their recorders, and then they listen to it back. They’re nice enough, but they always want to know who we are. As if we remember. I’m only sure of one thing from my living life. I was in a plane crash with my mother and brother. I died on November 22, 2017. As long as I remember that, I’ll have an event, I’ll know how I died. There will always be a log of who died in that crash, of who wasn’t identified. As long as I remember, maybe one day someone will figure out who I was. Maybe someone will bring a list, maybe they’ll ask about me. Maybe I’ll remember.  
The date is November 22, 2017, the date is November 22, 2017, the date is…


End file.
